Page 13 of The Scald Crow

“What better way to meet everyone? This is Ireland after all––’tis expected,” Orlaith said, leaving no room for argument.

I opened my mouth to speak but decided against it.

“How is it for you, luv?” Orlaith nodded at my empty bowl.

“The soup was amazing. Thank you so much.” I said, hoping against all hope that they would forget the invitation by tomorrow.

“Aye, look at that. It’s lovely to see a girl with an appetite.” Orlaith sent a sharp glance to Saoirse. “Another bowl, luv?”

“Orlaith.” She made a face at the older woman, scrunching her lips and arching her brows.

“Thank you. That would be great. I can’t believe how hungry I am.” I watched her ladle soup in a fresh bowl and set it before me. The bottomless pit I called my stomach gurgled appreciatively.

“Where are you heading, miss, once you leave us?” The wrinkles around her mouth fanned into a smile.

“Calla’s moving into the old Sweet place,” Saoirse told her. “Maybe we’ll get our honey supplier back, yeah? There’s a business opportunity there, Calla if you’re not afraid of bees.” Her gaze returned to me.

“The Sweet Place?” Orlaith spun around. Her mouth dropped open, and fear flashed through her eyes, magnified threefold by her thick prescription glasses. She clasped her hands in prayer, her complexion greyed, and her knees gave out.

Saoirse lunged forward, but it was too late.

I jumped out ofmy seat as Orlaith fell backward, landing face-up on the hard stone floor.

“Orlaith? Orlaith?” Saoirse knelt beside Orlaith, holding the older woman’s hands between hers.

And just like that, I forgot the no-touch rule. I flew behind the counter, crowded the narrow aisle, and rested two fingers on Orlaith’s racing pulse. Fractured light pierced my mind, and I saw what Orlaith saw.

White clouds, perfectly formed puffs of fluffy cotton, dot a baby blue sky. Nestled into the craggy side of the mountain slope, a straw-thatched shieling made from rubble stone and bonded with clay chinking. The low drone of bees buzzing from wildflower to wildflower sings in the mid-morning air. The sweet smell of a summer’s afternoon fills my senses.

A donkey cart approaches, its spoked wheels creaking along the uphill path. The driver, a kind-faced man, urges the long-eared donkey forward.

“Ériu, we have to go. You must hurry.” Orlaith rests her hand on Ériu’s upper arm, but the girl named Ériu seems unaware. She gazes at something only she can see. She remains motionless, her thoughts elsewhere.

“Aye, Aye. ’Tis fine, Orlaith, ’tis fine.” Her cherry-red lips barely move. She raises her golden head, her blue eyes reflecting a turbulent storm. She holds a sprig of yellow daisies adorned with delicate white alyssum and sprays of lavender tied with a blue satin ribbon.

“Whenever you’re ready, luv.” The driver tips his straw hat.

“Aye, we should be on then.” Ériu lifts the floating lace of her wedding dress, revealing a sky-blue underlay. She places her slippered foot on the iron step of the donkey cart and lifts herself into the bench seat. Orlaith scrambles behind her, gathering the ruffled train of Ériu’s dress.

“There now. There now.” She fusses with the lavender crown entwined in Ériu’s golden locks.

The driver clicks his tongue to encourage the donkey while the two women, hand in hand, giggle as the cart bounces down the mountain trail.

The donkey abruptly stops when a curly-horned black ram darts onto the dirt path.

“Whoa.” The driver’s calm voice steadies the enraged donkey.

“Put this on, Ériu. I almost forgot.” The excitement in Orlaith’s voice is contagious. She dangles a silver bracelet with a horseshoe embedded with tiny sapphires, sunlight glimmering from the delicate links. “For good luck.”

She fails to notice Ériu’s stricken look or how her rosy cheeks pale to ash.

“Ach, now. Don’t fret. Don’t fret.” Orlaith gripped my wrist, her eyes locked with mine.

“It’s okay. Just breathe,” I murmured, sending calm to the elderly woman.

Her breathing slowed—and her rosy complexion returned.

“Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?” Saoirse hooked her arm around Orlaith’s waist and lifted her into a sitting position, placing her palm on her forehead.

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